


Lavellan Seeks Out Courtship Advice

by AvaWhiteRaven



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-10 16:32:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3297128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaWhiteRaven/pseuds/AvaWhiteRaven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lavellan has developed feelings for Solas but she knows very little about courtship outside of her Dalish clan. She seeks out advice from her companions but finds that she's bitten off more than she can chew, or rather, embarrassed herself more than she'd like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Cullen." Lavellan slipped into the watchtower, pressing her back into the door as it closed behind her. She wanted to make sure the room was empty and that Solas wasn’t around to hear. Not that Solas ever ventured into the watchtower very often.

She had never really sought out anyone romantically in the clan. It had never really phased her, the idea of being with someone. Until now. And seeking advice was the worse thing in the world but she just didn’t know where to start. Courtship could be a difficult process if misinterpreted. Each clan held their own small traditions. And now, here was Lavellan, among humans with completely different ideals.

The commander looked up from his paperwork, slightly baffled as to why he was being bothered. He hadn’t sent her any reports or word about anything eventful occurring. “Inquisitor?”

"Do you mind if I ask you a question?" Lavellan made her way to the chair across his desk. She pulled her feet into the seat with her, looking as comfortable as a cat in sunlight.

He let go of the piece of paper, leaning back in his chair. “Did something happen?”

"No. It’s just… Well, you’re human?" She shook her head when she realized it came out more like a question and then realized how awkward of a statement it was. "What I mean is that… If you like someone, well, more than like someone… You know, if I wanted to be with someone..." She shrugged a shoulder. "How does that work?"

"Maker’s breath." Cullen felt the heat flush to his cheeks, quickly gripping the back of his neck, as he desperately tried to stay neutral. "Oh, well, uh, I’m sure the Dalish do it similarly…" He stood up abruptly, shuffling papers with sweaty hands, trying not to think about the Inquisitior being sexually involved with anyone. Why was she asking him of all people? Certainly that wasn't his expertise.

"Are you sure? I would think humans… Well, he’s not human but… He’s more city elf… Well, no he’s…" He wasn't exactly Dalish either. "Don’t you have different customs?"

"Just…" Cullen was almost teary eyed to how harsh the heat of his blush was. He kept his eyes down, hoping it would hide the brightness of his cheeks. "Do it the same way you would if he were Dalish. I, uh, I am really busy, Inquisitor… Reports to send off… Uh, recruits to… yell at."

Lavellan leaned forward. She tried to imagine that Solas would better enjoy getting a gift if they were away from people. Or so, that’s how her clan would have done it. A beautiful pelt or a well crafted bow. But Solas wouldn't prefer those sorts of things. Something magical related. Fade related. “So, should I take him to the woods? Do it there.”

"What?" Cullen squeaked, clutching one the reports trying to focus on the words but he couldn't . Finally, he crushed the report in his hands. He looked at her baffled expression. "You do it in the woods? What if someone saw you…" When she looked even more confused, he whispered, "naked."

Lavellan jolted. “Naked? Why would I be naked?”

Cullen went slack jawed.

"Wait? What?

"What?" Cullen’s brows were shot up in surprise.

"What were you talking about?"

He stuttered, desperately trying to find his words. “We were, uh, well, I…”

Lavellan planted her feet on the ground. She muttered under her breath, heading back towards the door she had walked through earlier. “I’ll just go and ask Varric.”

Varric was scribbling away, likely his recent novel. He was incredibly famous and Lavellan was sure he was a great writer. She just hadn't ever considered reading any of it. She was a huntress for her clan not a keeper of lore. Besides, none of Varric’s work would ever likely be read in a Dalish clan. She hadn't picked up reading even after becoming the Herald.

"Varric." She sat down adjacent to him, reveling in the warmth of the fireplace as the cool air of the mountains seeped in from the nearby door.

"Inquisitor," he smiled, setting down his pen.

She stood beside his table, hands fiddling in front of her. "If I were, let’s say, interested in someone… Romantically." Lavellan tried to plan her words better this time and romantic surely explained it enough. "How does it work?"

"Inquisitor?" Varric smiled, wide enough to show off his teeth, but his brows were telling a different story. He was in mild disbelief. "I was never really good at explaining those sort of things... out loud. Where's Rivaini when you need her?" He shook his head sighed in submission, reaching over and grabbing a finished book from a trunk of other papers and books. "Here. This… should explain everything." He pushed it across the table towards her.

"Swords and Shields." She pushed her lips to the side, glancing at Varric for better answers.

"It’s not a good read but it’ll teach you a few things."

Lavellan wasn’t quite sure what “swords and shields” had to do with courting Solas but if Varric vouched for the book, she’d make an effort to read it. Surely, there was something in there that would help explain what to do.

She found Solas in his usual reading spot, or at least one of them. He was sitting, back stiff against the couch and an elbow on the armrest, holding up his book. Which was Solas’s way of sitting comfortably.

"You found something to read, lethallan." He watched her walk across the room, a soft smile on his lips.

Lavellan dropped onto the couch, stretching her legs out into Solas’s lap, which in no way hindered his reading. “Varric recommended it. I think it’s about fighting.”

They said nothing further, simply enjoyed the quiet and the comfort. Well, for a time. Lavellan continued to read, and as she read, she began to realize that there wasn’t as much fighting as there were… other things. She had hoped it would be mostly fighting and a little courtship. There was less courtship and more… clothes being ripped off, moaning, fingernails scratching...

"Are you feverish, lethallan?"

"What?" She jolted, forgetting that Solas had been reading as well. He had been so quiet, a statue, only moving to flip a page. She slammed the book closed, pressing it hard between her hands in hopes it would disappear. "Fever? No. Maybe." There was heat in her cheeks, burning across her face and her ears.

Solas let his lips slide into a half smile. “Was the book that Varric recommended worth your time?”

"Book?" It hadn't disappeared, after all. Her heart raced, her thoughts quickly searched for excuses but it seemed nearly impossible with him looking at her like that. "No. I mean, yes. Ugh."

Solas raised a brow. “A book that has the Inquisitor so conflicted.” He leaned forward, seeking out a title, no doubt. “Might I read it? After you, of course.”

"No!" She threw the book, not daring to watch it slide across the floor, only stared at Solas’s expression and he of course stared bewildered at the book.

"Oh?" Solas drew his brows together, nervous as he rolled his gaze to her.

She shot up, scrambling to her feet, backing away from the couch. “I just… already promised… Dorian, that I would let him read it.” She snagged the book off the floor and started towards the archway of the staircase. “He is probably dying to read it up there.” And as quickly as she could, Lavellan galloped up the stairs, holding her breath until her feet hit the last step.

"Oh, I’m definitely dying to read that,"he joked once she explained the situation.

"Hush! I didn't know!" She waved her hands, pleading with him, pacing along the small walkway. "It’s called Swords and Shields. I thought it was about swords and shields."

Dorian couldn't help himself. “Oh, there’s definitely swords involved.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

Lavellan pleaded, her face distorting with fear. “Just hide it, burn it, throw it out a window. If he asks to read it say that… someone stole it.”

He laughed, the sound echoing in the round structure. "What in Maker’s name compelled you to pick up a book?"

Lavellan hated the idea that she wasn't much of a reader. Dorian knew how much she disliked it. And reading reports from her advisors made it even more obvious. “Varric gave it to me.”

Dorian smirked. “What did you ask him? How to have wild sex with Solas.”

Lavellan sucked in her lips and bit down on them.

He laughed, wholesome and rich. “Fine. Fine. What do you need to know?”

She wanted to cling to her pride and she certainly clenched her fist. “Nothing. I’ll figure it out on my own.”


	2. Chapter 2

Lavellan headed down the staircase, less thrilled about everything, and she made sure every steps was heavy and loud. And annoyed. She could still hear Dorian’s laugh as she reached the bottom and closer to Solas’s cozy little den. Dorian was her closest confidant but he was going to be the last person she went to after that embarrassing moment.

“Lethallan.” Solas was standing at his desk, watching her step into the room. “Are you feeling well?” He placed the item he’d been studying back onto his desk.

“Me? I’m fantastic. Peachy. Better than ever. But I uh, I have to go talk to Bull. About mercenaries. Battle strategies… involving mercenaries.” She nodded her head, pretending to believe her lie, and hurried towards the door.

He was beginning to take steps towards her. “Uh, lethallan?”

Just run, she thought. Run, pretend you didn’t hear him. Quickly, before he ask you about that stupid book. She hurried out, slamming the door behind her, and leaned back against the door for a moment. She wanted to take that moment to rest but the thought of Solas checking on her made her heart jolt. She hurried forward into the main hall hoping to escape around the corner.

“Learn anything useful, Inquisitor?” Varric was still in his seat by the fireplace, scribbling away at something, and there was an obvious humor in his words.

Lavellan turned on her heel, pointed angrily at her dwarven friend, but had no true insult come to mind. She’d rely on her Dalish. “Ma emma harel,” she muttered before stomping out onto the front steps. The cold mountain air helped cool down the heat of embarrassment. She wasn’t exactly eager to see Solas anytime soon, at least not until she could contain her blush around him.

Iron Bull was in his usual spot, slouched down in his chair, with a mug of something awful in his grasp. It certainly smelled awful. “Inquisitor! Need something pummeled?”

She tucked her hands behind her back, clenching them with anxiety. “I need some… information. About things that you may or may not know?” She shifted her weight back of forth from her left hip to her right. She wasn’t sure what was worse. Asking Cullen for romantic advice or Iron Bull. She imagined this wouldn’t end well either.

“Ben-Hassrath reports, you mean?”

“Uh. Yes,” she said firmly this time, her mind spinning with ideas. “Being a Ben-Hassrath, surely you know about spy related… courtship techniques.”

“Courtship?” he spat, face distorting with confusion.

Lavellan’s face drained of all emotion, forcing herself to remain neutral. She turned and walked away. “I’ll ask Blackwall.” She had thought that someone, at least one person among her companions, would know an inkling about romance.

Maybe her flaw was in relying on the men. She hadn’t asked any women. She could ask Cassandra, even though she found it hard to believe the Seeker would know anything about it.

“Cassandra, you have a moment?”

She put all of her weight behind her sword, slamming it hard against the straw and wood dummies, steadying each breath like a trained warrior. “I have some time, yes.” She slowly sheathed her sword, rolling her shoulders as she headed towards the heat of the smithy.

Lavellan found that asking Cassandra caused her the most embrassment. She wasn’t sure if it was because she respected Cassandra a great deal or if her previous blunders were finally getting to her. “If I wanted to begin… courting someone—”

“Oh?” Cassandra spun around with deep interest, brows raised and mouth parted.

“Would you happen to know—”

“Absolutely!” Her voice reached an all new high, an interest Lavellan hadn’t quite seen before.

The elf’s brows drew together. “You would?”

“Well, I read about it…” Cassandra began to fidget with her fingers, shoulders lifting slightly in her movements.

“Read?” Lavellan grew weary. She wasn’t ready for another Sword and Shield scenario.

“In a spy report,” Cassandra quickly corrected, rubbing a finger across her brow. “One of Leliana’s.”

“A spy report…” She pushed her lips to the side.

“Yes. Spies do those things, don’t they?” Cassandra fiddled her fingers again. “There were exchanges of poetry and airs of passion.” She certainly seemed confident in what she was talking about and Lavellan was beginning to believe her.

“I could write a poem,” thought Lavellan. “In Dalish, probably.”

“There should be exchanges of gifts. And of course, fine food and wine. Like a picnic.” She started to stare off then, imagining it all in her head.

“A picnic? What is that?”

“There’s a blanket… and a basket filled with food.”

Lavellan began to walk away, too busy trying to remember the four things she would need: poetry, gifts, food, and wine. Cassandra enthusiastically continued, half aware that Lavellan was already gone. The poor elf was too caught up in her muttering to listen to the rest of the Seeker’s explanation.

 


	3. Chapter 3

[Part Four](http://arvaleeknight.tumblr.com/post/108121436957/lavellan-seeks-out-courtship-advice-pt4)

Lavellan climbed up the stairs to Dorian, quite proud of herself and her determination. She smiled, beamed even, when she saw him in his typical spot in the library.

“Figured it out, did you?”

“I certainly did.” She crossed her arms across her chest. “My plan is downstairs, right now.”

Dorian looked up from his book, a half smile on his lips. “Is that so?” His book replaced him in the chair as he walked over to the banister. “What is all of that?”

She leaned back against the railing, still cocky in her victory. “It is called a picnic. I placed a blanket, with a poem, some food I found in the kitchen, and a bottle of wine from the cellar. I also left a dragon tooth touched by the fade as a gift.”

“On the couch.” Dorian lowered his head into his hand, hiding the wide smile.

She watched Solas enter the room, he stopped by his desk, but his eyes caught sight of the cluttered couch. He started towards it, setting Lavellan’s heart into a dizzying frenzy, he might see them.

She gasped, snatching hold of Dorian, and throwing him into the libraries nook. Dorian flew backwards, hitting hard into a bookshelf and quite a few books fell on him. He threw her an annoyed glare. Without missing a step, Lavellan was down on her knees, peering over the edge of the banister, using her skills as a Dalish scout to spy.

“Solas, darling,” Vivienne sauntered in, each step swaying with grace. “I do need you to return my book to me— Oh? What is all this?”

“I am uncertain. I just recently returned to find all of this here.” Solas picked up the bottle of wine, eying it under the light.

“That’s a good year, darling.” Vivienne threw her weight to the side, her hip thrusting in the other direction.

“It would interfere with my dreaming.” He set it back down among the other things.

“In that case, I will simply have to have the wine, then, my dear.” She lifted it into view, fondling it’s smooth glass surface with slender fingers.

Solas lifted his hands ever so slightly, “We don’t even know whose it is.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” Vivienne sashayed away with the bottle, not even taking a second glance back.

Lavellan pressed her burning face into the cold floor. Of course, wine wasn’t a good choice for Solas. He detested tea, she knew that much. Wine would be added to her mental list.

“Well,” Dorian chided. “That went swimmingly.” He towered over her, a disgruntled look on his face. But it was slowly breaking into a soft smile. He could never stay mad at her for long.

Lavellan’s brows strained under her anxiety. “Maybe the poem will help?”

Dorian shook his head as he crossed his arms. “Did you even write down to tell the poor fool who it was from?”

She nibbled along her bottom lip. “No?”

“Maker,” he sighed in the hopelessness of it all, lifting a hand to press fingers into his forehead. “Do not worry. I will have this problem solved in no time.”

“No,” She waved her hands, jumping to her feet. “I can handle this.”

“Solas,” Cullen waved a nonchalant hand, passing through the room with casual steps.

“A moment, Commander?”

Cullen walked over, a hand lounging over his sword’s hilt, seeing the gathering of food inside of the basket and the blanket thrown across the couch.

Solas waved a hand over all of the items. “Someone appears to have left this mess here. By any chance, would you be interested in putting it out in the dining hall?”

“Well, I uh.” Cullen rubbed his hand along his neck. “I was planning on finding some food in the kitchens...”

“Marvelous.” Solas waved a hand towards the basket.

“Dorian,” Lavellan whispered harshly, grabbing her closest friend’s arm, her lips pulled down as far as they could go.

“You put the poem in the basket, didn’t you?” He pried himself from her grasp.

Her face crumpled. “I thought it would be nice to find it after he ate everything.”

Dorian headed for the stairs, a quick walk really, a bounce in every step. He ignored Lavellan’s pleading, her pride begging him not to get too involved. “A basket of food, Commander? Shouldn’t you be eating something much more heartier for all of those muscles of yours.”

“Dorian,” Solas calmly greeted. “Were these items yours?”

“Yes, actually.” He reached out to grab the basket.

Cullen still had it in his grasp. “You left it on Solas’s couch?”

Dorian haughtily replied, “People in Tevinter leave all sorts of things lying around on couches.” He wiggled his eyebrows at the bashful ex-templar.

“Why do I even bother socializing with people.” He pressed the basket hard into Dorian’s chest, ready to walk away to the kitchen, but it happened so quickly that the contents spilled. Food toppled out, along with the poem and dragon’s tooth.

Lavellan pressed her fingers into her face, raking them down the sides of her cheeks.

Solas reached down and picked up the two non-food items. “You write in Elvish, Dorian?”

Dorian froze for a moment, unable to come up with a witty remark. “I know a great deal of things, actually, including how to write in Elvish.”

“Well.” Cullen retorted, impatient with the whole matter. “What did you write?”

Solas slowly let the paper drop away from his face, rolling his eyes up to Dorian. “You certainly… spelled everything correctly.” He handed the page over, trying to gather his senses and the correct reply to the love poem.

“Of course I did.” Dorian took the paper with a flourish. “What… exactly did you think?” He wanted to say “what exactly did it say”.

Solas awkwardly moved his gaze between Cullen and Dorian. “It was incredibly well written, Dorian. I am certain the contents hold true. I, however, am unable to return the feelings and agree to your request.”

Cullen’s brows drew together. "Request?" He tried to peer at the paper, even if he couldn’t read the language. “What request?”

“A discussion about the Fade,” Dorian spoke up quickly, just as Varric was entering into the circular room.

“Nice gathering, Chuckles.” He threw out his arms. “No invite for me? I’m wounded.”

Solas lifted a book into view. “I would much prefer to return to my reading.”

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen muttered. “Everyone is acting so strange today.”

“Strange?” Solas slowly began to nod. “Inquisitor Lavellan threw a book across the room. I think she may have caught some sort of fever. Perhaps, there is an illness going around.”

“She asked me—” Cullen quickly stopped, too embarrassed. “Personal questions.”

“Odd,” Varric added, about to talk about his own encounter.

“That book,” Solas interrupted. “Did she not get it from you?”

Dorian threw the basket into the air. “Solas! Speaking of inquisitors and such things, I believe she had something important to give you.” Dorian grabbed his arm, herding him towards the door.

“Last I saw of her, she was heading to see Iron Bull…”

Dorian nodded, seeing him out and closing the door.

Cullen threw a blank stare to Varric.

The dwarf shook his head, a shrug of his shoulders. “Andraste’s ass, what’s going on?”

Dorian gave a wide half smile. “The Inquisitor is what. Now Solas thinks I’m in love with him. Maker knows what was in that poem.”

“What?” Cullen groaned. “You wrote it.”

Dorian headed back upstairs. “Our Inquisitor is not all that great at “inquisiting”, it seems.” He found her, hunched over on the floor in the corner. “She wrote that poem.”

The commander followed him into the library. “I still don’t think that explains anything.”

Varric chuckled. “Our Herald here has a crush. And managed to scare Solas.”

Cullen looked away, half ashamed. “She certainly managed to scare me.” He cleared his throat when she threw him a harsh scowl.

“Just do something simple,” Varric encouraged. “Whatever you think he would like.”

Lavellan threw her head back, letting it hit the wall. “I just wanted to do something nice…” She gave a weak smile. “Cullen, you know mages, right?”

“No! No!” Cullen threw his hands in the air and walked away. “Not this again!”

Lavellan grabbed Dorian’s reading chair and pulled it in front of her. “I think I’ll just hide here for a while. I need some time to sulk.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

“Lavellan.” Dorian gave her shoulder a motherly push.

She jolted from sleep, feeling a twinge of pain nip into her neck. It took her a moment to realize she had fallen asleep scrunched up on the floor, stuffed behind a chair in a dark corner. She gripped her neck, massaging out the stiffness. “Dorian?”

“How long are you planning on invading my space?” He smiled wolfishly. “When no ones around, I do rather enjoy reading my books naked.”

“I’m staying here, you being naked or not.”

Dorian turned half serious, a seldom occurrence that truly meant the situation required it. "In my book, if nothing's caught on fire you're doing well. Your situation is not that bad.”

"Not bad? Really? Cullen thinks I'm a pervert. Varric thinks I need coaching in how to be a pervert. And Solas thinks you're in love with him. Pretty sure, it's bad. Who wants a Herald like that?” She shoved her scarred hand into his face. “You think if you cut off my hand, the mark will still work? You could just use it for me."

“Now you’re just being a child.” He began smirking again. “Of course, the mark needs you to wield it. Besides, bloody hand just doesn't match well with this outfit.”

“Dorian,” she pleaded, feeling defeated and ruined. How was she supposed to face them? She was the Inquisitor and to most that made her almost a god. But she was still very flawed and mortal. And ashamed.

He lifted his hands in surrender. “Varric and I already handled things for you.”

The life drained out of her. She began to tremble a little, the library becoming all the more cold. “What do you mean? What did you do?”

He gave a slight shrug of his shoulder, walking his way over to a bookshelf. He ran his fingers along the spines of books like a caressing lover returning home.

“Dorian,” she whispered when she saw that he wasn't planning on replying. “Tell me what you did, Dorian.”

“Better than what you managed to accomplish,” he replied, still preoccupied. “Now, if you don’t mind.” His finger jumped once he found what he was looking for and pulled it off the shelf. “I have some alone time to catch up on.”

She slowly stood up, slow from both soreness and weariness. She would have to face her friends eventually. She hoped Cullen and Varric would keep the events between each other. Iron Bull might talk about it but not out of spitefulness. He might blurt a few things after getting drunk or for hardly believing it was embarrassing to begin with.

Lavellan shyly made her way to the door that led to Vivenne’s balcony as well as downstairs into the main hall. It was a different route than usual but she hoped to avoid Solas’s study and furthermore Solas.

She glanced about the main hall, lined with long tables and carved statues. Skyhold was quiet with the time of night, her inhabitants likely at the tavern or in bed. Even the fires were out. Only the moonlight coming through the windows behind the throne made everything all the more visible. Her Elven eyes certainly helped.

Leliana walked in from outside. “Inquisitor.”

Levallan took down a deep breath, relieved it was only her. “You’re still awake?”

“Spymasters never sleep,” she joked with an all too delicate smile. “There was a request for aid that we need to speak of in the morning. Shall I gather your companions at sunrise?”

Lavellan nodded, grateful for the distraction.

“I’ll let Solas know--”

“No!” Lavellan stared wide-eyed, again thwarted by embarrassment. “No, I probably won’t bring him.”

Leliana chuckled lightly. “You always bring Solas.”

“What? No, I don’t…” She forced a smile, walking as confidently as she could towards the unlit fireplace.

“You said he was an expert mage.”

Lavellan chewed on her lip. “I bring Dorian sometimes.”

“With Solas,” she chided. Leliana gave a soft laugh, something that sounded oh so innocent yet somehow mischievous. “We can decide your team in the morning.” Her smile never waned as she walked into Solas’s study.

Lavellan sighed, her shoulders slumping at the release of tension. Leliana definitely knew what was going on. She could determine a noble’s secrets simply by looking at their shoes. It was what made her an excellent spymaster.

“Lethallan.”

Lavellan heaved, wrapping her lips around the scream that was both fearful and mortified. She placed her fingertips over her mouth, forcing a calm expression. But she knew, she felt, her face distort. Her eyebrows were too high, her eyes too wide, and fire roiled beneath her skin.

“I have searched all of Skyhold for you.” Solas walked towards her, but it was less of a walk and more of a prowl. His hands were tucked behind his back, confident with each of his movements, his words were silk across his tongue.

“I’ve… been around… Skyhold, all over being busy.” Her fingers pressed harder, feeling less and less confident in his presence. He used to be so soothing. Now her words hardly made any sense.

He cocked his head, his gaze rolling away for a brief moment. “Ma serannas. Your gift. I wanted to thank you.”

“My gift?” Her thoughts reeled back towards her terrible idea earlier that day.

He brought the book out from behind him. It was leather bound and very pristine. “I have yet to write anything inside of it, I am afraid.”

Was this Dorian and Varric’s doing? He believed it was a gift from her...

“You’re a scholar,” she quickly replied. “Always reading books. Now you can write one.” She almost nodded to herself, thinking how ingenious the plan was. “You have so much knowledge that the world could learn from.”

“A wonderful idea, lethallan.” He held it before him, sliding his eyes up to her. “It is late into the night, however, I would enjoy hearing about your day.”

A smile broke free from her, the easiness of his presence returning again. “I’m sure yours is far more interesting.”

Solas laughed, rare as it was and very much a heartwarming sound. “Our Tevinter friend certainly gave me a surprise.”

It took all of her energy not to cry. She laughed instead, harder and louder than usual. “Tell me everything. I must know the details.”

“Ma nuvenin… vhenan.”


End file.
